Fraternity-Testvériség, 1956 (34. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1956-06-01 / 6. szám
FRATERNITY 13 weeks and months to come, Bandholtz briefly noted on October 8 that “the seals on the Museum, by the way, are still intact.” They remained affixed until November 15. On that date, the Rumanian troops having left Budapest on the previous day, the General returned to the director of the Museum the key to the storeroom and removed the seals. On January 2, 1920, “Mr. de Pékár, the former Hungarian Minister of Liaison, insisted on seeing me . . . and gave me one of the medals of the National Museum with a dedication on it [‘from the grateful National Museum’] to myself. The General Leaves — and Returns Before Bandholtz’s departure from Hungary on February 10, 1920 — mission accomplished, the Rumanians out of the country, orderly administration restored — the Budapest magistrates decided to have his portrait painted. Noting in the Diary the slight discomfiture of sitting for a portrait, the General remarked that the famous artist assigned to the task (“the old duffer”) said to him that “he is putting his soul into the portrait ... I am curious to see what sort of composite will result from my physiognomy and his soul.” One wonders how the “no-nonsense guy” would have commented on a certain event which took place on August 23, 1936, eleven years after his colorful life came to an end at the old family home in Michigan. On that date, Bandholtz once again appeared in Budapest — his bronze statue, strikingly true to life down to the riding whip, was unveiled on Liberty Square just across from the building of the American Legation. In attendance were the country’s highest public figures, including “Archie”; notabilities from all walks of life; delegates of American Hungarian organizations; also present were vast throngs of those whom the General had loved most of all — the common people, frayed hats in hand, tired eyes glistening with tears as they once again looked up at “our General” and read the inscription engraved in the pedestal: "HARRY HILL BANDHOLTZ. In glorious memory of the heroic American General, noble champion of justice, the grateful Hungarian nation. 1919. — T simply carried out the instructions of my Government as I understood them as an officer and a gentleman of the United States Army.’ ” A short streetcar-ride away loomed a monumental edifice with a facade in the style of a Greek temple — the National Museum. In its halls, the historic treasures of the people were safe, thanks to the American. The General with the magic wand remained on guard until that spring night five years ago when the Communists, with mock thoughtfulness, decided to have it “repaired”. A few months after the disappearance of the statue a Soviet memorial was erected in the Square “in honor of the great Stalin.” Since then, the removed figure of the man who in life could not be moved an inch by brute force has been preserved in countless small areas not to be found even on the largest of maps. Doctors say that each is usually the size of the fist of the person in whose chest it is lodged.
